The sun peeps thro the window paneWhich childern mark wi laughing eyeAnd in the wet street steal againTo tell each other spring is nighAnd as young hope the past recallsIn playing groups will often drawBuilding beside the sunny wallsTheir spring-play-huts of sticks or straw

And oft in pleasures dreams they hieRound homsteads by the village sideScratting the hedgrow mosses byeWhere painted pooty shells abideMistaking oft the ivy sprayFor leaves that come wi budding springAnd wondering in their search for playWhy birds delay to build and sing

The milkmaid singing leaves her bedAs glad as happy thoughts can beWhile magpies chatter oer her headAs jocund in the change as sheHer cows around the closes strayNor lingering wait the foddering boyTossing the molehills in their playAnd staring round in frolic joy

Ploughmen go whistling to their toilsAnd yoke again the rested ploughAnd mingling oer the mellow soilsBoys' shouts and whips are noising now

The shepherd now is often seenBy warm banks oer his work to bendOr oer a gate or stile to leanChattering to a passing friend

Odd hive bees fancying winter oerAnd dreaming in their combs of springCreeps on the slab beside their doorAnd strokes its legs upon its wingWhile wild ones half asleep are hummingRound snowdrop bells a feeble noteAnd pigions coo of summer comingPicking their feathers on the cote

The barking dogs by lane and woodDrive sheep afield from foddering groundAnd eccho in her summer moodBriskly mocks the cheery soundThe flocks as from a prison brokeShake their wet fleeces in the sunWhile following fast a misty smokeReeks from the moist grass as they run

Nor more behind his masters heelsThe dog creeps oer his winter paceBut cocks his tail and oer the fieldsRuns many a wild and random chaseFollowing in spite of chiding callsThe startld cat wi harmless gleeScaring her up the weed green wallsOr mossy mottld apple tree

As crows from morning perches flyeHe barks and follows them in vainEen larks will catch his nimble eyeAnd off he starts and barks againWi breathless haste and blinded guessOft following where the hare hath goneForgetting in his joys excessHis frolic puppy days are done

The gossips saunter in the sunAs at the spring from door to doorOf matters in the village doneAnd secret newsings mutterd oerYoung girls when they each other meetWill stand their tales of love to tellWhile going on errands down the streetOr fetching water from the well

Each barns green thatch reeks in the sunIts mate the happy sparrow callsAnd as nest building spring begunPeeps in the holes about the walls

The wren a sunny side the stackWi short tail ever on the struntCockd gadding up above his backAgain for dancing gnats will hunt

The gladdend swine bolt from the styAnd round the yard in freedom runOr stretching in their slumbers lyeBeside the cottage in the sunThe young horse whinneys to its mateAnd sickens from the threshers doorRubbing the straw yards banded gateLonging for freedom on the moor

The small birds think their wants are oerTo see the snow hills fret againAnd from the barns chaff litterd doorBetake them to the greening plainThe woodmans robin startles coyNor longer at his elbow comesTo peck wi hungers eager joyMong mossy stulps the litterd crumbs

Neath hedge and walls that screen the windThe gnats for play will Hock togetherAnd een poor flyes odd hopes will findTo venture in the mocking weatherFrom out their hiding holes againWi feeble pace they often creepAlong the sun warmd window paneLike dreaming things that walk in sleep

The mavis thrush wi wild delightUpon the orchards dripping treeMutters to see the day so brightSpring scraps of young hopes poesyAnd oft dame stops her burring wheelTo hear the robins note once moreThat tutles while he pecks his mealFrom sweet briar hips beside the door

The hedghog from its hollow rootSees the wood moss clear of snowAnd hunts each hedge for fallen fruitCrab hip and winter bitten sloeAnd oft when checkd by sudden fearsAs shepherd dog his haunt espiesHe rolls up in a ball of spearsAnd all his barking rage defies

Thus nature of the spring will dreamWhile south winds thaw but soon againFrost breaths upon the stiffening streamAnd numbs it into ice-the plain

Soon wears its merry garb of whiteAnd icicles that fret at noonWill eke their icy tails at nightBeneath the chilly stars and moon